God bless female reasons.
I unpack as much as I usually do, which isn’t much at all. Then I flip through the television stations twice before shutting it off. Despite my best efforts, my mind won’t let go of Gavin. Won’t stop rewinding and replaying each painful second of our encounter. Won’t stop falling into the gaping black holes wondering what he’s doing right that moment. If he’s with the waitress, if she’s getting to see him, to touch him and feel him in a way that I never will.
Before I rocket off into complete self-propelled insanity, I take the hottest shower of my life. As if I could burn my need for him off my skin.
Slipping into the faded navy blue shorts I cut from sweatpants and a white tank top, I realize the one critical flaw in my hasty getaway. All the snacks and drinks are in the boys’ room.
Damn.
I run a comb quickly through my still-soaked hair and step into my running shoes. Counting up a few bucks in change, I slide it off the nightstand and into my palm. Then I grab my room key and head to the door in search of sustenance. My stomach is painfully aware of the fact that my stupid heart made me miss dinner.
After unlatching the dead bolt, I pull the door open. The man standing there steals my breath and causes me to completely forget why I was leaving.
“What are you—”
“There is a reason,” he says, staring at me as if I’m standing there stark naked instead of in pajamas he’s seen a million times. “That I do not ever touch you.”
“Oh-kay,” I say slowly, because it’s the only word that comes to mind. He’s exuding visceral need and anger and something else I can’t quite put my finger on. His tortured eyes meet mine and I’m adrift in a sea of want. “So tell me your reason.”
My voice is barely above a whisper, but apparently he hears me because he grips my door frame and answers my question. Though it’s practically through gritted teeth.
“If I ever touched you, ever let myself so much as lay a hand on you, I might not be able to stop.”
I ache to test his theory, to touch him, to pull him to me and claim his mouth as mine. But the force of his confession and his fierce glare root me where I stand.
“W-what if I didn’t want you to stop? Or what if I touch you, Gav? What will happen if I stop playing nice, stop worrying about controlling myself, about my brother, about the band, and give in to what I want for once?”
The truth is, it literally would be the first time I imposed my will, my wants and desires, on anyone. I’ve always taken life as it came, never manipulating the forces of the universe in any way. Somehow I’ve become a flower in the breeze, or maybe a stubborn weed, swaying gently whichever way I’m blown but remaining grounded. But now, in this moment, I want to rip up my roots and take. Take Gavin in the way I’ve only dreamt about.
His broad chest expands with the considerable effort he’s making to breathe normally. Raking a hand through his hair, he glances over his shoulder.
“I don’t know. But I think that would be about the worst thing you could do. For all of us.”
My mind, heart, and body are suddenly at war with each other. I’m caught in the crossfire of their conflicting desires. It’s like I’m plucking my own petals playing He wants me, He wants me not, with hands that don’t know what they want the answer to be. Old insecurities creep up on me and come out victorious.
“Why?” I whisper. “Why don’t you want me, Gavin? What is it about me that literally seems to repel you?”
For a long time I knew he only saw me as Dallas’s little sister. I used to have frizzy hair and knobby knees and a chest as flat as both boys. But somewhere along the way, I changed. I’m having a hard time convincing myself that he really sees me for who I am now. Maybe he still sees knobby knees, frizzy hair, and freckles on my shoulders.